Dec. 27, 2007
What’s in a Vegas name : How about some fresh Aria?
By STEVE FRIESS
One of the most highly anticipated pieces of news among those
who traffic in such Vegas minutiae is what MGM Mirage will christen
the 4,000-room centerpiece of their $7.4 billion CityCenter
complex. More than two years into its construction, the place
is still referred to unofficially by many as the CityCenter
Hotel.
Trouble is, no matter what they end up calling the place,
it’s bound to be disappointing. I discovered this the other
day when, while chatting with CityCenter Chief of Design and
Construction Bobby Baldwin, I asked about the name. They still
don’t have one yet, he said, but they almost did. Unfortunately,
they couldn’t get the trademark for the one they came up with—someone
else held it—so they’re still hunting.
The failed name? Aria.
Does it do anything for you? Didn’t think so. And not because
it’s a bad name. It’s fine. Pretty, even. It just doesn’t mean
anything. It’s arbitrary. It’s forgettable. You know, like Echelon.
Or Crown Las Vegas. Or MEGACENTER, the all-caps moniker bestowed
on the entire 19-million-square-foot Venetian-Palazzo-Sands
Expo complex. Or the Epicentre, which was the working title
for Harrah’s Entertainment’s center-Strip redevelopment plan
that remains unannounced and, quite probably, unplanned.
And so, such is the fate of Vegas resorts in this post-theme
era. What difference does a name make when it doesn’t actually
offer any insight into what the place itself is all about? Think
about these words: Mirage. Treasure Island. Bellagio. Luxor.
Excalibur. Paris. New York-New York. Monte Carlo. Caesars Palace.
Rio. Mandalay Bay.
Each conjures up a fairly specific image; each is a reasonable
advertisement for what lies within. The Palazzo, then, fits
and works perfectly as an addition and/or sister property to
the Venetian.
And, while I don’t quite understand the legal basis of the
Elad Group for their claim to the Plaza name for their project
across from Wynn Las Vegas seeing how the Plaza is already in
use on a Downtown hotel-casino, I get that there’s a heritage
possessed in that name earned from the legendary New York namesake.
If the people who own the Plaza on Central Park South get to
build something called the Plaza on the Strip in Vegas, that
name will, in fact, bring with it pre-earned cachet.
Beyond that, here’s the problem in this bland, themeless world:
Never will there be any possibility that anyone will mistake
the Circus Circus for, say, the Hard Rock. But Echelon versus
THEHotel versus Aria? Would it matter if we switched around
these names for the heck of it?
One of the great naming processes of the modern Vegas era
came when Steve Wynn ditched the intended title for what became
his eponymous resort, Le Reve, about a year into construction.
The decision came at the urging of such brains as pollster Frank
Luntz and moviemaker Steven Spielberg and after he famously
once derided Donald Trump for always naming buildings for himself.
(Le Reve went on to be the name of his Cirque-like show instead.)
The interesting thing about both Le Reve and Wynn Las Vegas
is that both would have been just fine because they have little
stories behind them, they have meaning. Le Reve is the name
of a beloved Picasso that renowned art collector Wynn owns (and
famously damaged in 2006), so at least there was some emotional
connection there. And “Wynn” is, well, just about the most perfect
name for a casino-resort and a reflection on a man who has built
a legacy that is marketable in its own right.
Encore, the Wynn Las Vegas add-on tower, might have been a
generic aspirational-sounding name, except that in this context
it reflects a certain arrogance and attitude. It follows the
most expensive casino-resort ever built, so Wynn is telling
the world, “You may not believe this, but this one’s going to
be even better than my last masterpiece!” The name has a message.
With “Aria” or some other similarly focus-group-tested name,
MGM Mirage is clearly striving for something lyrical, something
to denote class and distinction. But the MGM Mirage would be
smart to call the new joint simply CityCenter Hotel-Casino,
now that they’ve built up some brand equity in that name, and
at least the term has come to define the high-density collection
of hotels and condos intended to revolutionize the Strip. Then
the name would mean something.
Whatever they do end up calling it, of course, the substance
of the property will determine whether we love it or not, whether
we want to visit or don’t. George Maloof certainly proved that
with his plain-sounding, unthemed Palms. But that took brilliant
marketing and a lot of effort; Bally’s, by contrast, sits there
as a baffling dullsville waiting for its extreme makeover while
bearing a name that says and means nothing.
In a recent interview with Steve Wynn, I predicted to him
that sooner or later, the themed resort will have to return
because all these high-end places will need some means of distinguishing
themselves from one another.
“Well, good point,” Wynn said. “But it’s not going to be as
simple as grabbing New York or Venice. No, no, no. No, no, no.
It’s going to be tougher than that.”
Actually, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes. It’s going to be as
simple as that. Because nobody is going to want to merely blend
in.
But in the meantime, here are a few ideas offered up by readers
of my blog: “The Lyric.” “The Arias” in honor of departing Zumanity
star Joey Arias. Or my personal favorite: “Kirk’s Gamblin’ Hall
& Casino.” Think anyone’s trademarked that one?
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